


Lullabies and Spoken Words

by Moonykins



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, M/M, Soft Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29746980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonykins/pseuds/Moonykins
Summary: Baby Ciri is having a tough night.  Geralt makes it better just by being there, somehow.  Even he is confused by it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	Lullabies and Spoken Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SincerelyYours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyYours/gifts).



Jaskier walked in circles, his bare feet thumping ever so lightly against the wooden floor of the inn as he held the babe over his shoulder, one hand patting her back soothingly. As he walked, he sang to her, though it seemed none of his lullabies were getting through to her since she was still screeching her little lungs out. Her tiny fists were balled in his doublet, clinging on as if it were her only anchor to the Continent. Small feet kicked occasionally against Jaskier's chest, but it didn't stop the bard from singing his songs and trying to calm her down.

Geralt sat near by, brow furrowed in silent concern. “It's no use.”

Jaskier stopped walking and turned to Geralt, rubbing a circle into Ciri's back. “Well, what do you suggest we do, Geralt?” he asked, irritation leaking into his voice despite himself. “I've been trying to calm her for three and a half hours now. We're lucky the inn owner hasn't thrown us out into the cold.”

“They wouldn't do that.” Geralt sounded predatory now. No one dared throw him, his bard, and his baby out into the cold to fend for themselves when he had already paid a perfectly good sum of money for a room. No matter how much noise baby Ciri was currently making.

Jaskier gave a grunt and continued walking and singing.

It had only been a few months since they had Ciri fall unceremoniously into their laps. A few months since the fall of Cintra. Geralt hadn't expected to come into contact with his Child Surprise this quickly—nor had he expected to fall in love with the little thing—but here she was. Her hair like spun gold, her eyes big and green like the first blooms of spring. She really was beautiful, The Lion Cub of Cintra. And she was his to protect and raise.

Most of the time, Ciri was a pretty happy and easy going babe. She didn't make much noise when they traveled and absolutely delighted in Jaskier's singing. The bard carried her more often than not, insisting that if they were to come across trouble then he and Ciri would be able to make a run for it while Geralt could fend off the danger. It made sense that Ciri had bonded to him more quickly than she did Geralt.

Jaskier grunted again. “I'm afraid it's just not working tonight.” He plunked down on the bed, earning an even higher pitched scream from Ciri. “I can't understand what the fuss is about. I've changed her, fed her, burped her, rocked her, sang to her. I've done everything I can possibly think to do!”

Jaskier sounded exasperated and Geralt wished he knew the answer. It was almost on the tip of his tongue to suggest he try rocking Ciri. Geralt _never_ rocked Ciri. Hardly ever held her. He would never admit it, but he was far too frightened to do so. Afraid he may break her, maybe. He couldn't rightly explain why he felt such fear at taking care of her. So he left everything up to Jaskier.

Unlatching her fists from his doublet, Jaskier turned Ciri around and began bouncing her in his lap. She faced Geralt and opened her eyes, still crying but calming somewhat. Slowly, fat little arms reached out for him, and a tiny two syllable word fell from her little rosebud lips; her first word. “Ma...ma!”

The room fell silent and Jaskier stopped bouncing his knee. He locked eyes with Geralt, finding that the witcher looked just as surprised as he felt. “Did...she just--”

“Say her first words?”

“Call you _mama_?”

Geralt was going to ignore the fact that Ciri had referred to him as her mother. Instead he was focused on the fact that she was reaching out like she needed him. Only him. Big, fat, crocodile tears raced in twin trails down her cheeks and Geralt couldn't stand it one second longer. He stood from his chair, crossed the small space between them, and took Ciri from Jaskier's arms.

“Mama!” Ciri cried out again, hugging onto the witcher and burying her face in his chest. “Mama!”

Geralt heard Jaskier snicker and shot him a knowing look, telling him that if he told a soul he wouldn't be getting sex for an entire month. Jaskier nodded in understanding and fell silent, a smile on his handsome face and a twinkle in his blue eyes. Geralt couldn't figure out what exactly that look meant, but he wasn't as bothered by it as he thought he might be.

His large hand pat Ciri on the back, swaying with her in place. She gave a little yawn and a sigh, tiny fist finding Geralt's hair and holding onto it. “You can call me that if you want to. I-If it's what you want...”

The name was whispered against his chest again and Geralt felt heat blooming within him. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he did know that it made him fall even more in love with Ciri than he already had been.


End file.
